


Clothing Malfunctions

by lilsherlockian1975



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Awesome Irene, F/M, Hidden Feelings, Humor, It's All About The Clothes... Sure, Romance, Smut, Total Denial of Feelings, Ugly Jumpers, Very Tight Trousers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 02:44:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 18,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3233297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilsherlockian1975/pseuds/lilsherlockian1975
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly can't get Sherlock's tight trousers off her mind and Sherlock is obsessed with Molly's inability to dress like the attractive woman he knows she is. Of course, both are in complete denial about what's really going on... it's a little thing we call Sherlolly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. His Pants...

**Author's Note:**

> Of course I own nothing, except the mistakes... those are mine all mine.
> 
> **FYI... I don't want a beta, stop suggesting I get one, especially those of you who don't write!!**

It was driving Molly mad. How did he even move? They looked terribly uncomfortable. They looked like they'd been sewed right on his body. It frankly made no sense, the way he ran around constantly you'd think he'd want something with more... maneuverability. But the question that plagued her most of all was: _could there possible be room for pants under those deliciously tight trousers?_

 

She frankly hated herself for spending so much time thinking about menswear. She'd spent half her life in classrooms working her arse off to achieve her title and position, only to now spend her days waiting for Sherlock Holmes and his perfectly produced posterior to walk into her lab.

 

Things had changed considerably between them since his return from the dead. Molly no longer stammered and blushed at his very presence and Sherlock kept his scathing remarks to himself, for the most part. Although he couldn't seem help himself but to toss the occasional false complement her way. She didn't really mind, if it made him feel better to think he was flirting his way to spare fingers and toes than to think his brother's name procured them, so be it. But now that she thought about it he'd been laying it on a bit thick lately, even for him.

 

Molly finally felt like her rather embarrassing crush a subsided to professional admiration. That is until she started obsessing over the man's trousers and possibly lack of pants. She found herself hoping for a particularly difficult case. The ones that caused him to have to remove his suite jacket and wander around the lab muttering to himself as she watch, looking closely for that tell tale line under those trousers. She was sure he'd caught her at least once, though she was trying not to be obvious.

 

After much thought (too much thought) she decided to approach the problem like the detective himself would, she would research and investigate. She could just ask him outright but she realized there would far too much smugness for her to handle. She thought perhaps casual conversation was the solution to her quandary.

* * *

 

 

She popped by Baker Street one day while Sherlock and John were off on some big case in Portsmouth. Mrs. Hudson did Sherlock's laundry, if the man owned pants he must wear them and if he wore them then they'd have to be cleaned, ergo... his landlady would at least answer some of her questions.  She was very happy with her cyclical thinking.

 

"Oh, Molly dear so nice of you to keep an old woman company," Martha Hudson said as she answered the door.

 

"Just wanted to catch up Mrs. Hudson, haven't seen you in while," Molly lied as the landlady led her into the sitting of the lower flat.

 

They took their tea and chatted about Mrs. Hudson's hip and most recent gentlemen. Molly was a bit offended at the fact that the septuagenarian was getting more action than she was, but she pushed on. Finally the conversation, of course, made it's way to Sherlock.

 

"Oh, I tell you if he doesn't do something with that refrigerator I will call his mother. I have her on speed dial, you know," Martha warned as she offered Molly another biscuit. "Do you think you can go gather up all the moldy bits love?"

 

"Um, I didn't bring anything to carry them in. Sorry," Molly said.

 

"Never mind, I can't get him to keep the place in any kind of order. I never really wanted children, he reminds me why."

 

Molly saw her opening. "So do you do Sherlock's laundry as well?"

 

Mrs. Hudson huffed. "Of course, everything that doesn't get sent to the cleaners. You wouldn't believe how much of his wardrobe requires special care."

 

Now that they were on the topic Molly suddenly felt like she had no idea how to broach the subject, she started to panic. "Um so you wash everything?"

 

Mrs. Hudson looked up at her. "Well yes dear, except what gets sent out."

 

"So, his..." _Just do it, ask her if she washes his pants... she was just telling you about snogging a the life out of a retired lorry driver. Oh that's not a good joke at their age... come on Hooper, grow up._

 

"Molly?"  Mr. Hudson asked.

 

"Um, his towels? You wash Sherlock's towels?" _Damnit!_

 

"Well yes, towels too," Mrs. Hudson replied with a confused look on her face.

 

Opportunity lost and feeling like a failure Molly went home deciding she needed to regroup. Hopefully she'd have some answers before she had see him and his lusciously distracting arse again.


	2. Her Jumpers...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still own nothing... blah, blah, blah. Mistakes... yeah sure still mine.

She was wearing it again. The ugliest jumper he'd ever seen (and that included all of John's atrocities.) The thing was offensive, it should be removed and incinerated. Sherlock could not understand how such an intelligent woman had no idea how to properly dress herself. All of her clothes were at least two sizes too big for her and she wore so many layers she appeared, most days, to be headed for an expedition to the Arctic. True, the morgue is a cold place to work but surely there are more attractive ways to stay warm.

 

He had told Molly time and time again how hideous her choice of dress was, but did she ever listen? No! Of course now that their relationship had changed, he held his tongue. He had made his opinion known, and besides he wasn't going to insult the woman who had saved his life, well not anymore at least.

 

What was driving Sherlock to the brink was that he _knew_ that Molly Hooper had a lovely body. She had proven that at the ill-fated Christmas party when once again, his mouth had gotten ahead of his massive brain and he exposed the reason for her change in costume. He of course had been wrong (it happened so seldom, how could he have known?) Sherlock actually felt guilty about it for once (it was an evening of rare occurrences.) Frankly he was just as surprised as John and Lestrade when he looked up and saw Molly wearing a short, tight, black dress rather than her customary giant jumpers and baggy trousers. He was so distracted by the case with the Woman he missed... well everything, important anyway.

 

He witnessed it once again at the Watson's wedding. Molly managed to put herself into a somewhat form-fitting yellow dress, even if for some reason she topped off the ensemble with an enormous bow on her head.

 

Now he was sitting in the path lab watching her putter around in a jumper for which he actually felt a strong personal hatred. He had never hated an article of clothing before. He hated Mycroft's brolly of course, but that certainly didn't count as clothing. That jumper, however, was currently topping his list of most hated things and approaching people as well. Could he hate a jumper more than a criminal mastermind that tried to kill him and all his friends?

 

_Hmmm, it's possible. I have to get Molly out of that jumper! Wait that didn't sound right! Why didn't that sound right? Damn that jumper and all her other over-sized, aesthetically unpleasant clothing. I could just break into her flat and destroy all the offending items. Of course knowing her she'd just buy more of damn things._

 

He had spent some time researching the reasons why an attractive, single, thirty-something woman would dress like a frumpy, old, house wife. Most of the possibilities he dismissed outright, but the one that caught his attention was low self-esteem. If Molly was indeed having issues appreciating her own attractiveness then perhaps he could help. So he turned up the adulation. He made sure never to comment on outfits, least she think he approved of her unflattering, over-sized garments.

 

He took at trip to his Mind Palace where he had and carefully cataloged the list of _Molly safe_ compliments. This wasn't exactly his area, so he had done a little research there as well. His goal: make Molly feel better about herself and get those awful clothes off of her. He tried once again to phrase it differently but decided it didn't matter, he knew what he meant, didn't he?

 

"Molly, your hair looks lovely today," he said as she crossed in front of his work station.

 

She sighed a small smile barely graced her lips. "Thank you Sherlock. It's no different than it was three days ago, or last week or last year for that matter."

 

"Oh, well it seems... shinier?" he said with his head cocking sideways.

 

She gave him an odd look. "Are you saying my hair looks greasy? I worked a double yesterday you know!  I was too tired to wash it this morning." She shook her head and walked away.

 

"No, not at all. It has a... healthy glow." Smiling to himself as he felt like he had recover that.

 

Molly stopped. "Oh, right sorry."

 

"Are you feeling alright Molly, you seem distracted today," he asked.

 

She looked around. "Um, yes perhaps."

 

He didn't really want to have to talk to her about her problems, just bolster her self-esteem. He hadn't even done any research about this, he'd have to wing it. "Anything you want to talk about?" he asked but of course hoping she wouldn't.

 

Molly looked at him like he'd suddenly grown a second head. "Did you just ask me to share my feelings?"

 

"Yes?" he said dragging out the whole word.

 

"There's nothing to talk about. Like I said... I'm just tired worked a double yesterday. But thanks for asking, it's very un-you of you," she said with confusion on her face.

 

Sherlock managed a small grin and nod. "Just trying it out."

 

Molly giggled and winked. "Well don't hurt yourself."

 

That's the moment it dawned on him that Molly Hooper was was being cheeky. _Interesting..._

 

Sherlock puzzled at Molly's comment, not sure if he had accomplished any part of his goal. He realized, however, he had enjoyed those last few moments with Molly when she seemed slightly more confident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment ME!! Always like hearing from you!


	3. An Intersting Article

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing except the mistakes

John... The man lived with Sherlock for years. He had to know whether or not he wore pants. The problem was getting him to reveal the information without knowing it. Molly puzzled and puzzled over it. She even considered getting the poor man drunk but of course dismissed it immediately. No, there had to be a way to ask, without asking.

 

She knew one thing; she had to either get over her infatuation with his lower half or figure it out. This simply wasn't healthy. The other day in the lab Sherlock had certainly noticed how distracted she was becoming.

 

The key was to tread lightly. She was quite proud of getting over her crush on the consulting detective and it seemed everyone around them had noticed. Mary had made more than one comment about Molly's left hook and how Sherlock should try asking nicely for his body parts least he come away with a black eye. She had even heard John laughing with Greg about how Sherlock couldn't fuck with Molly's feelings anymore and they both seemed delighted. The last thing she wanted to slip back into old routines.

 

She finally came up with a query just vague enough to keep her self respect but that could possibly get her the answers she was so desperate to find. The next time she had John to herself she knew what she would ask him.

 

Later that week she got her chance.

 

"Molly, how are you this fine day?" John said as he came into the pathology lab.

 

"Oh, hi John. I'm well. You're in a good mood," Molly said removing her gloves.

 

He walked up to her work station. "Is that a spleen?" Molly nodded. "Yes, well I'm Sherlock-free for a while. He's hold-up in the flat doing the best impersonation of a grumpy old troll. Refusing to leave since the unaccommodating criminals of our fair city have once again failed him. He sent me in his stead."

 

Molly laughed at John's exuberance. "Yes, he sent me a text. Wanted some toes I believe. This way." John followed her toward the morgue. "Um, so John, I read an interesting article in a woman's magazine the other day." _Okay Hooper... you can do this._

 

"Really?"

 

"Yes, it was about men's pants. It compared single men and married men," Molly continued.

 

"You read an article about men's pants. Is that really what they put in woman's magazines?"

 

"Yeah, what do they put in men's magazines?"

 

"Naked breasts." Molly laughed again. "Never mind, what about this article?" John asked.

 

"I'm always curious, these things seem so random. Like they could have just made the whole thing up." _Much like I just did_. "Their contention was that married men and single men wear different types of pants."

 

Molly was opening up the cold storage after donning a fresh pair gloves.

 

"Are you asking about my pants Molly?" John asked with a curious grin on his face.

 

Putting several toes in a bag Molly stopped and turned quickly, "No! N-not really, just well compared to your single friends... are they the same?"

 

"I'm not sure about my single friends, I haven't really ever thought to ask them."

 

 _Alright... go for it... this is it..._ "Well, what about Sherlock, you lived with him you have to know about his pants." Molly waited with baited breath.

 

"Sorry, I don't think I ever really paid much attention. Mrs. H did his laundry and I did mine. Trust me being his flatmate and blogger took up enough of my time. I didn't spend time thinking on his underthings. Although I have often wondered where his clothes come from. I've never once seen him go shopping." John got a far off look in his eyes. "Do they just show up? He does get a lot of deliveries. But even _I_ know those are designer suits... and fitted too. Mary pointed out that they have to be properly tailored. Where the hell do they all come from, he ruins at least one a week. Aw hell, the man's an enigma. What can you do? Sorry I couldn't help you." John had been to busy to notice the crestfallen look on Molly's face.

 

She sighed. "It's fine, here." Sounding a little dejected, she removed the gloves and started locking up the freezer.

 

"You seem upset, this article really has your nickers in a bunch," John said and laughed at his joke.

 

Molly gave him a blank look. "No, just very curious. Don't worry about it will find out though. Somehow I will figure this out if it's the last thing I do," she said through gritted teeth.

 

"O-kay... well I'll leave you to your research then. Thanks for the toes since Sherlock won't remember to tell you."

 

Molly stared off into the distance as John left and absently waved her goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.


	4. The New One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing but the mistakes are mine.

_Where the hell did that thing come from? A new one? She'd been shopping... this new jumper was an even bigger eyesore than it's predecessors. Large. Lavender. Loathsome._ It seemed all his work was for naught. Sherlock wasn't about to give up, oh no. He just needed to figure out how to give her the boon she needed to get her out of those clothes... again, he knew what he meant.

 

"Molly, you're looking much more focused today," he said glancing up from his favorite microscope. "No more double shifts?"

 

"No, not since the other day. They got the schedule straightened out. Had some time off, did a bit of shopping," she said smiling as she tugged on her newest assault on Sherlock's scenes.

 

"Mmm" He nodded eyeing the garment much like an old adversary.

 

Molly noticed but had no idea why he was looking at her top like he wanted to murder it. "Is something wrong? You looked angry all of a sudden. A bit... murderous actually." She looked down at her torso to see what could have sent him into such a state.

 

Caught, Sherlock looked back to Molly's face. "Oh, sorry... I, um, just thought about... Moriarty for a moment. I still... hate... him. Bastard," he said trying to look angry. Of course all it would have taken was a glance at that awful thing covering Molly's upper half, but he didn't want to chance it.

 

"Oh, does that happen often?" Molly asked looking very concerned.

 

"No... not really. No," he said shaking his head and looking around the room. _Damnit I'm a good liar, um actor. Why can I suddenly not come up with a convincing cover story? Oh, I know... I'm off my game because of that monstrosity she's wearing. This is completely out of hand, soon it will be affecting my work. Something must be done._

 

Molly walked over to Sherlock, he was still thinking about the fact that her jumper had thrown him off when he felt a hand on his arm.

 

"You know, if you ever need to talk to someone I don't mind. I'm sure John would be better but maybe since he's a man... I don't know. You've been through a lot and you've done so much for all of us. Don't think we don't know that Sherlock. So if you need anything... my old offer still stands." She smiled sweetly and patted his arm.

 

Sherlock stared in shock, her jumper forgotten, and finally nodded his head. She started to walk away and he grabbed her hand.

 

"Molly..."

 

"Yes?"

 

"Thank you, ah... just thank you."

 

She smiled and squeezed his hand in hers. "Of course Sherlock. You're welcome." Then she let go and walked away.

 

Sherlock jumped off his stool and pulled out his phone, he started sending a text. "I'll see you soon Molly."

 

"Bye, Sherlock," she said as he left.

 

**I'm cashing it in-how soon can you be here-SH**

 

**Oh, so eager- I love it-Dinner?-I**

 

**No- not dinner- someplace public-SH**

 

**Fine Grumpy- I'll have Kate send you an address-I**

* * *

 

 

Three hours later Sherlock found himself in the private room of an upscale dining club and engaged in a staring contest with Irene Adler.

 

"I said public woman."

 

"Oh, sorry. This isn't public enough for you?" she asked taking a drink of dark red wine.

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Let's get this over with. You owe me. So do me this one favor and we're even."

 

Irene pouted. "And here I thought you did that out of the kindness of your heart."

 

"Oh please there's not a heart between us. No, I did it because I can always use an ally and I didn't want to see your great mind go to waste, perverse as it may be."

 

Irene was unfazed by his complement or insult. "I'm alive for it and for that I do owe you."

 

"Exactly! What I'm about to ask you to do must be done with complete discretion and care. This case is of," He looked down at his tea. "Personal importance."

 

"Well Mr. Holmes, letting sentiment seep into your life finally?"

 

"No! Just... No! It doesn't affect _me_ personally, rather someone else." He huffed. "It's affecting me professionally because of the personal effect it's having on this person, personally... understand?"

 

"If I say yes will you continue?" Irene asked.

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

 

"Alright, so what kind of scheme are you getting me wrapped up in?" Irene asked taking another drink.

 

"I need you to befriend my pathologist and do one of those makeover things," he said waving his hands around.

 

Irene stared at him, after a moment she came out of her shock. "And this is a woman?"

 

"Yes! Women can be pathologists too!" he nearly shouted.

 

"Of course."

 

"As a matter of fact when she started she was the youngest pathologist in the country. She has published six papers in the most reputable medical journals in Europe and she assists me in my cases, she is brilliant!"

 

"Sherlock, I wasn't questioning her ability... just wanted it know if I was working with a man or a woman." Irene thoroughly enjoyed watching him get all worked up. "Aren't you adorable though."

 

"What?" He almost squeaked.

 

"You want you're smart doctor to be pretty as well. Fine, I can do that. So do you want fem fatal, or sexy professional, or perhaps something along the lines of lady in the streets and Domina in the bed?"

 

Sherlock's eyes grew wide. "NO! You will not turn Molly Hooper into miniaturized version of yourself! All I want to do is get her out of her awful jumpers!" Irene smiled salaciously. "Damnit, not like that!"

 

She took pity on the poor man. "Okay Sherlock. Calm down, you're gonna pop one of those damn buttons off your shirt. Listen, and this is merely an observation love, but you seem to care a great deal for this brilliant, young, fashion challenged doctor."

 

"Of course I care for her Irene, she's my friend. But unlike you I don't sleep with my friends."

 

"So that's it then, just friends?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

 

Sherlock looked around the room. "No, that's not all Molly did something for me. She saved my life... twice." He looked up at her. "I had always treated horribly. I said awful things Irene."

 

"Yes, you do that, don't you?"

 

"But she helped me without a second thought. Molly's kind and sweet and always there when I need her."

 

"No one's that good Sherlock."

 

"She is Irene. And I just want her to feel good about herself so she'll stop wearing those abysmal jumpers and wear something more appropriate. She has a lovely figure, I've seen her in a dress on more than occasion. Just befriend her, not as yourself for heavens sake, and make her over. It's the least I can do for her, she's done so much for me."

 

Irene looked at Sherlock, he was lost in his own thoughts for a moment. _The virgin's in love... how adorable._ "Don't worry Sherlock. I'll take care of her."

 

He suddenly looked up. "Don't flirt with her Irene."

 

"I know better than to mess with something that doesn't belong to me."

 

"You of all people know that none of that nonsense interests me," he said trying desperately put his mask back on. "If I turned you down thirty seven times, my attention certainly won't suddenly be turned by my frumpy pathologist and her offensive jumpers."

 

Irene wasn't fooled for a moment. "Okay Sherlock," she said with a smile. _Just wait until I'm finished._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.


	5. A Confusing Find

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no beta- I know I make mistakes...  
> Also I own nothing.

The day after Molly talked to Sherlock about his residual Moriarty anger, she came up with yet another plan. This one involved a bit of recon. She was tired of dealing with people and their useless information. She was going to get to the bottom of Sherlock's bottom herself.

 

Mrs. Hudson had shown interest in Molly recovering some old body parts from Sherlock's refrigerator. This would give her a perfect opportunity to get into the detective's flat and sneak a peek into his drawers. Seeing if the great detective even owned pants would answer some of her questions, surely.

 

She called the landlady and agreed to come over but Molly stressed that Sherlock must not know or he'd fuss about it. She even managed to act slightly put out for having to clean up his mess (which Mrs. Hudson certainly sympathized with.) Now all she had to do was wait for the right case to present itself. It didn't take long because the day after that he was called to Hull. Something about a headless body found in a room locked from the inside. She was too busy being excited by the prospect of her B&E to really pay attention.

 

Molly was having some moral dilemmas about her decision, but she felt like she was at her wits end. Her need to get into Sherlock's pants, ur... well figure out want was under his trousers... um, that still didn't work. At any rate, she had to find out. John and Mrs. Hudson had been less than helpful so she would just go find physical evidence.

 

She arrived at 221B Baker Street and was once again greeted by the ever cheerful Martha Hudson. "Hello dear, I can't tell you how much I appreciate this. I simply can't stand living under all that rotting flesh anymore."

 

"I don't mind, I just wish he'd bring them back when he's finished with them. I won't be taking everything though, only the old bits, things that he's obviously finished working with. Might take me a while to sort it all out. Did you want to come up with me?" Molly asked knowing Mrs. Hudson wouldn't want to be anywhere close by while she was handling decomposing body parts.

 

"Heavens no! Not really my taste I'm afraid."

 

Molly took her cooler and headed upstairs. She decided to get her real job over with. The fridge was a total disaster. He clearly had been working on several experiments at the same time. She grabbed the oldest looking appendages and organs and shoved them into bags then into the box. After she had completed her 'cover story' she took a deep breath and slowly walked down the hall.

 

 _Okay, this is it... the moment of truth._ She slowly opened the door. The rest of the flat may have been a complete nightmare but Sherlock's bedroom was neat and orderly. Just like everything else about the man his room was a utter contradiction. She looked around feeling a little overwhelmed. There was a well warn copy of Frank Herbert's Dune on his bed side table. _Really? An American fantasy novel? That man never ceases to amaze_ , Molly thought as she eyed the rest of the room nervously.

 

She quickly found a chest of drawers and approached it. She took another deep breath. The top drawer contained socks. They were perfectly rolled and grouped according to color. _He can't throw away a rotten appendix but he has his socks organized in some kind of system... Urgh!_

 

She closed the drawer and moved on to the next one. This one contained old, ratty tee shirts, folded neatly but in no particular order. The third one down was full of sleep pants and sweat pants. Molly's anxiety was rising, the last drawer had to be the one...

 

She slowly pulled it open.. _. NOOOO!_

 

In the same methodical fashion as the socks, there were three rows of pants. A row of boxers, a row of briefs and a row of boxer briefs. _What the hell? What does this mean?_ Molly closed the drawer and went back into the kitchen and gathered up her decomposing treasure.

 

Molly said her goodbyes to Mrs. Hudson and found a cab and headed to St. Barts. She thought about what she had found... pants... lots of pants... all kinds of pants. She thought if she found what she was looking for, her curiosity would be sated. She was wrong. Now she wanted to why he had so many different kinds? And truth be told, it didn't answer her initial question... could he possibly fit any pants under those impossibly tight trousers?

 

After safely disposing of the contents of the cooler Molly headed to her favorite coffee shop to ponder her findings a bit more. She paid for her coffee and took a seat on a sofa in the back. Ten minutes after she sat down an attractive woman spoke to her.

 

"You look like you're deep in thought," the woman said.

 

"Oh, yes... I suppose I am," Molly replied.

 

"Sorry, I just... you seem to have a lot on your mind. Care to get it off your shoulders?" the woman asked taking the comfy chair next to Molly.

 

"I-I don't think so. Um..."

 

"Of course, sometimes it's just easier to talk to a stranger about a problem than someone close to you. I think that's why people go to therapy. Anyway, thought I'd ask," she said taking a sip of her tea.

 

Molly eyed her, she was beautiful. Perfectly put together with dark jeans, knee high black boots and a taupe Kashmir sweater. She seemed friendly enough. Molly didn't usually strike up conversations with strangers at coffee shops, but today she was feeling bold after her little attempt at espionage.

 

"Well, I guess it couldn't hurt." She said. "I'm Molly," she offered the stranger her hand.

 

"Ginny."

 

"So, I have this friend and he wears these trousers that are so unbelievable tight that they drive me mad," Molly started.

 

"Oh, so one of those bums you want to take a bit out of then?" Irene said in a much more casual tone than she normally would, but she'd have to dial it back to earn Molly's trust. She was loving that they were already talking about Sherlock though. For a man who claimed to not care about sex he did seem to go out of his way to turn the head of every female (and some male) he came into contact with.

 

"Yeah, sort of. But like I said we're just friends. I'm not interested in him like that. I use to be, well I had this ridiculous crush on him for years but that's over now. I'm totally over that... completely. Not interested at all. No. It's just recently I can't stop thinking about his pants. You know, does he wear pants? How could he under his tight trousers?" Molly closed her eyes and shook her head. "It's insane, I'm a doctor, a pathologist. I can't be spending my time thinking about my colleague's arse. So I thought if I looked into it, found out if he wore pants, I'd be satisfied. It turns out I was wrong. Like some kind of crazed stalker I snuck into his flat looked in his drawers. What do I find?" Irene shook her head. "Three different kinds of pants... and really I still don't know if he wears them on a daily basis." Molly got a far off look in her eyes. "Although he had quite a lot of them... why would he have so many if he didn't wear them? But then that brings me back to, why the different kinds? It's perplexing..." She was looking at some point in the distance.

 

Irene studied Molly. The poor thing was just as bad as Sherlock. "Molly, is it possible that you still have feelings for this bloke? Maybe that's why you haven't found the answer you're looking for?"

 

Molly looked back to 'Ginny' absolutely horrified. "No, no that can't be it. I don't... no, he and I have gotten to such a good place and he's comfortable around me now. He use to treat me a bit... well just a bit harshly." She looked down and pulled at a thread on the hem of her ugly jumper.

 

"What do mean harshly?" Ginny asked.

 

"Oh, he didn't mean anything by it.  I think my silly crush made a bit uncomfortable, is all. Now we work well together and we're even friends. He has so few people in his life he trusts, I couldn't bare going back to the way things were. Not only because of his treatment of me but because he needs me Ginny. He needs people around him that don't just use him for his amazing talents and intellect but because they actually care about him. No, I will just have to get past this whole arse obsession so I can focus on my work and help him with his."

 

Irene found herself at a loss for words, she didn't know what to expect from Sherlock's description of the woman he seemed to idolize, but now the picture was much clearer. She was good. _Hmm, I didn't know good people still existed, who would've thought?_

 

"Tell you what Molly. How about we work on finding other things to distract you from your friend's lovely arse and see if that helps?"

 

"What do you mean?" Molly asked a little dumbstruck.

 

"Oh I don't know... two beautiful girls in a city this size, who knows what kind of trouble we can get into!" Irene... well Ginny said with a wink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.


	6. Well Ain't That A Nail Gun In The Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no beta - mistakes are mine.
> 
> I own nothing.

Molly was standing over the body of a twenty-seven year old male, finishing up the final stitches when Sherlock and Greg walked into the morgue. Greg had phoned earlier and said they'd be in.

 

"Hey Molls," Greg said as he kissed her cheek, "What we got?"

 

Sherlock watched the exchange trying to remember if he'd ever noticed this much familiarity between the pair before. Ultimately he decided he must have deleted it. Although he didn't much care for it.

 

"Okay, twenty-seven, in relatively good health before well... Anyway, he put up a fight, I found some tissue under his fingernails. He's been roughed up but blunt force trauma is the cause of death. I ran a tox screen, let you know if I get anything. Not very interesting. I wouldn't think this would ring your bell Sherlock."

 

"Yeah, that's what I said. But he insisted on coming." Greg said.

 

Sherlock was standing with his hands in his pockets. "Slow day Garfield, any murder is better than no murder. Even an easy one."

 

"You have the names picked out in advance don't you? I picture you at home with a calendar choosing what name to call me on each day... Git. So what about this?" Greg motioned to the body.

 

"I stand by what I said at the crime scene. Stepfather." Sherlock said looking around the morgue.

 

"I still don't understand how you got that." Greg said folding his arms across his chest.

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "He was extorting the stepfather in regards to his extra marital affairs. Stepdad got tired of it, confronted his wife's son, they fought new daddy hits him with..." He gestured to Molly.

 

"My guess is a rock of some kind. There were bits of it in his scull, but it couldn't have been a fall. He had to have hit him at least three times." Molly elaborated. "I'm also sending the rock fragments off for analysis."

 

"Then poppa panicked called NSY, reported the crime and tried to make it seem like a break-in. Like I said easy."

 

"Alright, I'll go interview the stepfather, again. You coming?" Greg called to Sherlock.

 

"No, you have what you need."

 

"Thanks Molls!" Greg said from the door.

 

"Bye Greg."

 

Molly started cleaning up and putting the body away. Sherlock leaned against the closest cleared table. His real reason for coming in today was to see if Molly was any different since she had met with Irene's alter ego 'Ginny.' They clearly they had not been shopping yet since Molly was once again wearing some kind of crocheted abomination.

 

"Thank you for clearing out my fridge Molly." Sherlock said with a raised eyebrow.

 

"Oh, you noticed, um... course you did. Mrs. Hudson was quite insistent. I hope I didn't take anything you were still working on." She said as she shoved the stepson back into his locker.

 

 _Why is she blushing,_ he thought. "No, you managed to only take the ones that required disposal. That was kind of you." He said smiling.

 

Molly nodded.

 

"Anything new and exciting happen whilst I was in Hull?"

 

"Nothing of note on your cultures I cataloged all the data for you. I did have an interesting autopsy though. A body came in with a nail in the brain, from one of those industrial nail guns. It was perfectly nestled between the to halves. Best part is... that's not what killed him."

 

"No?" He asked.

 

She was shaking her head. "No, he was walking to the hospital... walking here _after_ he got shot in the brain with a nail gun... and was hit by a bus." She was thrown into a fit of giggles and right along with her Sherlock. They laughed for several moments before they finally started to come back to their senses. "I know, it's not really funny, but I can't help it."

 

"No, Molly that's the very definition of funny. Wow." Sherlock walked over to her to give her his handkerchief even though there were paper towels just a few feet away, because she had tears of laughter streaming down her face.

 

"Thank you." She took it and wiped her tears.

 

"Anything else, not that that story wasn't good enough."

 

Molly handed him his handkerchief back. "I, ah, met someone. Made a friend. I don't know, it's weird."

 

"Oh?"

 

"Yeah, I was having coffee and this woman struck up a conversation with me. We kinda hit it off. I really can't remember the last time I just started talking to a stranger and then suddenly we're friends... probably uni. Of course I've made friends through work or mutual friends but it's been years since I just chatted up a stranger. We met up for drinks last night, had loads of fun."

 

"Your friend what's she like?"

 

"Oh, she's well... she's gorgeous first off. Properly beautiful. She's a personal stylist with loads of wealthy clients and famous. She couldn't give me any names, confidentiality and all but the way she was dressed I believed it. Posh but not over done." She had been looking at Sherlock but looked away and said, "She's kind of everything I'm not."

 

Sherlock frowned, this isn't what he wanted. He didn't want Molly to feel inferior because of Irene, that certainly wasn't the point of this endeavor. True Irene did conform to society's expectations of beauty, but Molly Hooper was just as attractive, though she kept it hidden under layers of unappealing clothing.

 

"Molly, why do you do that?" He asked.

 

"Do what?" She asked looking a bit confused.

 

"You cut yourself down. I don't understand."

 

Molly suddenly felt self-conscious. She looked around thinking of an answer. "Well, I don't know Sherlock. I-I know what I am and I know what I'm not, so there's no point in pretending. Anyway, I have a new friend and we are going shopping this Saturday. It will be grand." She said putting on a fake smile and trying to busy her hands carrying some tools to the autoclave.

 

Sherlock continued to watch her as she moved about, she was clearly upset. "Molly," He said as he approached her, "This friend of yous, I don't know her but I know you... and I think you're lovely." He was standing right in front of her when he finished.

 

"Th-thank you Sherlock, I wasn't fishing though..."

 

"I know you weren't. Have fun shopping, buy yourself something nice." He said as he turned to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: That story about the nail gun is true... well I added the part about getting hit by the bus. As far as I know the man who was nailed (sorry, I had to) is still alive and kicking. My husband is a nurse. A man walked into his hospital with a nail from a professional nail gun in his head, just as I described, asking if it could be removed. It was, with very little ill effect. Hopefully he made it home without any bus interference.
> 
> ***One more thing, please don't berate me about the morbid jokes... I have a very dark sense of humor and I firmly believe my Molly would also (and I don't think anyone would put it past Sherlock.) I happen to personally know a couple of morticians and they tend to poke a bit of fun a the deceased from time to time. Just enjoy it...psst... it's not real... that's why they call it fiction.


	7. A Few New Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing except all the mistakes

Molly had not been to so many shops, collectively, in her entire life. She and Ginny mostly stuck to small high end boutiques. She had no intention of going on some kind of shopping spree but when Ginny started grabbing outfit after outfit and shoving Molly into a dressing room she realized her new friend had a different plan.

 

She tried telling Ginny that skinny jeans and tight fitting tops weren't really her style but she was ignored. Eventually she just gave up and started trying on everything she was handed. Every time she came out Ginny would tell her she looked amazing but Molly felt ridiculous.

 

"I'm sorry Ginny, this would look great on you but I feel like an idiot." Molly said turning around in the mirror, she was wearing fitted denim trousers and low cut black blouse.

 

"Oh, no that looks wonderful on you. Who knew you had such a nice body hiding under all those over-sized clothes. Please trust me, this is what I do." Ginny said eyeing Molly's reflection appreciatively.

 

"Ah! I feel like I'm playing dress up!" Molly pouted.

 

"Would you stop complaining! I've never met a woman that didn't want to go shopping for new clothes. You spend too much time around dead people Molly... come to the world of the living, preferable with decent style!" Ginny said as she rolled her eyes, the gesture reminded Molly a bit of Sherlock.

 

"I like my comfortable clothes. It's not like I'm trying to impress anyone." Molly complained.

 

"Would it hurt you if you did? What about Mr. Tight Trousers? Let's make him wonder about your knickers for a while." Ginny said winking.

 

Molly cringed, the idea of trying to impress Sherlock made her stomach turn. "No! No, I've been down that road and it's ugly and dangerous. One Christmas I bought a dress to try to show him some nonexistent sexy side of me. He tore me apart in front of all of our friends. Lesson learned. I've got nothing he wants to see Ginny." She turned to go back into the changing room.

 

Irene made a mental note to punch Sherlock Holmes next time she saw him.

 

She pulled Molly back to the mirror. "You're right, don't do it for him. You damn look good. Who cares about he thinks, look at yourself. You're young, pretty and you have a sexy figure that you hide away... why? Because some asshat was unkind to you? It's not fair, not to you. And no offense but it's not fair to the rest of us that have to see you in your big ugly jumpers."

 

"Are they really that bad?" Molly asked pulling a face.

 

"Yes, they make me want to cry. They are an a front to all my senses, awful... just awful. The day we met I had to go home and take out all my favorite shoes and stare at them for two hours just to cleanse my mind of your horrible jumper." She and Molly both laughed so hard several other patrons shot them hateful looks. Ginny took Molly's face in her hands, "Please let me help you pick out some nice things that will help you feel better about yourself." Then she turned Molly around to look in the mirror.

 

"You're right," Molly nodded, "I know you are. Just a few things couldn't hurt, yeah?"

 

By the end of the day Molly was loaded down with five bags full of clothes including new underthings. Ginny was adamant that sexy knickers and bras were somehow the key to _finding your confidence._ They were both exhausted and starving so they stopped for some dinner before heading home.

 

"I can't believe I let you talk me into buying so much. I'll be fifty before I pay off that credit card." Molly said as she ate her soup.

 

"You have to learn live a little Molly, another after affect of spending so much time with corpses I assume. I think you'll find that those purchases pay off in more ways than one."

 

Molly giggled.

 

"Are you ever going to tell me the name of your friend with the award winning ares? I'm tired of referring to him as Mr. Tight Trousers."

 

"Um, he's a little famous. So I'm not sure I want to tell you. More than likely you'd know who he is."

 

"Is it Sherlock Holmes?" Ginny looked up at Molly with a wry grin.

 

Molly gasped. "How on earth?"

 

"It wasn't difficult to figure out. I thought your name sounded familiar, so after we met the other day I Googled you. I must have seen your name in the paper when I was reading about some case of his. You've got a bit of fame yourself. 'St. Bartholomews pathologist and frequent aid to the consulting detective, Dr. Molly Hooper.' It also said you are the only pathologist he'd work with, I know it's true because I read it on the interweb."

 

Molly blushed a little and both women giggled.

 

"So you want to get into Sherlock Holmes's pants. Hmm, I think we've made some headway today."

 

"Ginny, I explained this the other day. I'm not interested in him like that, not anymore. My recent fascination with his bottom is nothing more than sexual frustration. I've been thinking about it as matter of fact... think I just need laid." Molly said playing with her soup and giggling a bit more.

 

"I know what you mean, if I go too long without it I'm positively batty. But are you sure there isn't something more here you just aren't seeing because you don't want to. Possibly because previous scathing comments?"

 

Molly thought for a moment, she really didn't want to get her hopes up but she also felt like she could share almost anything with her new friend. She decided to open up. "He has been very kind lately, sweet and complementary even when he doesn't have to be. Well... I don't think he means anything by it."

 

Irene leaned across the table. "Be more specific dear."

 

"Well, he gives me these false complements, even though he has to know by now they're not necessary. I don't know why he still does it." She looked around a bit. "But lately, I don't know. He's seemed different and hell I don't know what he meant by it..."

 

"Molly, what did he say?"

"I was telling him about you and how beautiful you are and how we are completely different, he said 'I don't know about this friend of yours but I think your lovely.'" Molly cleared her throat and shook her head. "I don't know why he said it. Just Sherlock being Sherlock I suppose."

 

Ginny gave her a sad, sweet smile. "Molly, sometimes people do things and they don't even know why they're doing it, especially men. But if he thinks you looked lovely before, in your grandmother's jumpers... just think of how he'll react when he sees you in all those nice new clothes you just bought." She said with a wink.


	8. Irenervention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing, but the mistakes are all mine.
> 
> Again - bold: text messages

After leaving Molly at her flat with bags of new clothes Irene walked through the streets of London. She was well aware of the fact that she had done many unsavory things in her life, not that she regretted them. She was a genius and possibly a sociopath... maybe. She didn't really have time for psychoanalysis. But she suddenly felt compelled to make Sherlock and Molly deal with their unresolved feelings.

 

She had always been drawn to Sherlock's incredible mind, his stunning good looks didn't hurt one bit, but his mind was remarkable. Their brief 'mind sex' had been just that and nothing more. She would have taken whatever was offered but no matter how many times she invited him to dinner, she was always turned down. Now she understood why. The man's heart had probably been occupied much longer than he realized and she never really stood a chance.

 

Molly Hooper on the other hand was possibly an even rarer species. She was obviously brilliant in her own right, no one holds her position at a hospital like St. Barts without having the mental capacity to back it up. But what Irene found fascinating was Molly's heart, her kindness. She really was just a good person, and that was something that Irene could honestly say she didn't even realize she was missing in her life.

 

This was a bit more complicated than tying a client up and beating them until they begged her to stop. In a way, it was more complicated than playing games with rich and dangerous men until she got what she wanted. This was all emotion and feelings.

 

Molly's heart seemed to be almost too tender take anymore chances at this point, but she must be stronger than that. She'd been by Sherlock's side for years, helping him... saving him. Yes, Molly Hooper could handle Sherlock Holmes.

 

The real question was, could Sherlock handle his feelings? To Irene it was glaringly obvious. He couldn't hide his esteem for Molly even when he was trying, which Irene suspected he did frequently. He clearly had great respect for her professionally. But what shocked her the most was how he softened when he spoke about what Molly had done for him, it was the most human she'd ever seen him. Then, of course there was his deep hatred for her clothes, it doesn't' take Fraud to figure that one out... he was just plain hot for the girl. Frankly after spending all day watching her change into sexier and sexier outfits, Irene understood why. She was deeply regretting her promise not to flirt with the sweet little thing. Restraint simply wasn't a part of her nature.

 

Irene was afraid that if simply left to his own devices Sherlock would let this opportunity pass him by. He'd just let Molly slip into her new gorgeous clothing and right out of his hands. Oh, there was a chance he'd take one look at the new and improved Dr. Molly Hooper and sweep her up in some romance novel embrace, but it was a slim one. Irene Adler liked a sure thing. If Molly lacked confidence maybe it was because Irene had far too much of it. So by the time she had gotten back to her hotel she had a plan.

* * *

 

 

**It's done, your pathologist has an entirely new wardrobe.-I**

 

**Good. Back out. Take a job in the states or something.-SH**

 

**No, I'm not quite finished.-I**

 

**What?-SH**

 

**I rather like Molly, and I'd like to set her up with someone.-I**

 

**What do you mean? A date?-SH**

 

**Yes, people do that Sherlock-I**

 

**Unacceptable, the job is finished. Back out.-SH**

 

**This isn't part of the job. I want to do something nice for her. She's lonely, she needs a bloke.-I**

 

**I won't have her distracted by some idiot. We have a process, romantic interest disturb that.-SH**

 

**Reread that last text-I**

 

**?-SH**

 

**Did you read it?-I**

 

**Yes-SH**

 

**And? You don't see anything wrong with keeping Molly from perusing a romantic relationship so you have unlimited access to her? THINK!-I**

 

It took a while for his next text to come through.

 

**I also don't want her to be hurt. She has a horrible track record.-SH**

 

**Yes, I've heard all about it. I owe you a slap by the way and not the kind I'm paid for.-I**

 

**Don't fix her up Irene.-SH**

 

**Please.-SH**

 

**It's done. She has a date tomorrow. He's nice, I vetted him myself.-I**

 

**As if I trust your taste.-SH**

* * *

 

 

It was a bit cruel yes, but the man was being a child. One more step.

 

"Ginny." Molly answered her phone. "I was just putting away all my new clothes."

 

"I do hope you did as I advised and burned those jumpers."

 

Molly laughed, "I can't get rid of all of them, but I'll take some to the charity shop."

 

"The one where you bought them? It's nice of then to take them back." Ginny/Irene quipped, this time a bit more Irene than Ginny. "Listen, I have a friend that I want you to meet, a bit of a fix-up. He's coming by yours tomorrow afternoon, wear the red and white dress. Put on the stockings and your new underthings. I think those Mary Jane's with the slight heal will work nicely."

 

"Oh Ginny, that seems too dressy for a first meeting."

 

"That dress is perfect. He will literally not know what to do with himself. Do you want me to come over and help with your hair and make-up?"

 

"Please? I haven't been on a date since Tom. I'll no doubt be a nervous wreck." Molly said.

 

"Don't worry love, you'll be fine. This will be great fun... for all of us."

 

When Irene got off the phone she noticed sever more text messages.

 

**You only just met her, you couldn't possibly know her well enough to set her up.-SH**

 

**What's his name, at least let me check him out?-SH**

 

**His name Irene?-SH**

 

**NAME?-SH**

 

She ignored them and took herself to bed wondering how someone as brilliant as Sherlock Holmes could miss some so glaringly obvious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, let me hear it!


	9. The Dress Of Christmas Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I removed my nasty note off the summery...
> 
> Here's what, I'm quite over the nit picking. I very nearly decided to stop all together last night... but obviously changed my mind. I am not a professional writer, nor do I claim to be. Frankly I'm barely literate to tell the truth. It's not easy to put one's self out there and post a story for all the world to see. I read a ton of stories (enough to be embarrassing) and it would never cross my mind to point out someone's mistakes. It doesn't detract from the story for me, not in the slightest. I know how hard it is to catch everything, not to mention perhaps (as in the case with my chapter title) they did it on purpose.  
> So, please feel free to comment on the chapters/stories, but be kind... no need to be nasty. If I have to delete one more comment because I missed a comma, I swear there will be no end to this or any other stories. Let's just remember this is all for fun, shall we?

Sherlock was coming out of his skin and he had no idea why (well maybe that wasn't completely true.) Molly, on a blind date with someone Irene found no less, was not the outcome he was looking for. All he wanted was Molly in more appropriate clothing and feeling better about herself, not running off with some bloke instead of helping him in the lab. How could he have not seen this coming? Irene just had to take it one step further. He started considering if maybe he should have left her for dead in Karchi.

 

_Irene Adler... what was I thinking? This is an unmitigated disaster. Molly will meet this guy, wearing the clothes I pushed her into, thank you very much! Then they will fall in love and run off and have brilliant, beautiful babies together... What? What the hell is happening to me? Babies... Molly? I don't care if she has babies with some bloke... Damnit!_

 

Sherlock was pacing and fourth through the flat. He was wearing three patches and was seriously contemplating heading out for a pack of cigarettes. Visions of Molly walking hand in hand with some faceless man started to flood Sherlock's mind. She was smiling and happy, it was disturbing. Suddenly she was kissing Mr. Faceless and they were standing in front of a crowd of happy cheering people with flower petals raining down on them and Sherlock felt like vomiting.

 

 _She can't!_ He doubled over holding his stomach, hating himself for the psychosomatic reaction and wondering what the hell it was suppose to mean. Sherlock laid down on the sofa and tried to collect himself. He realized he was being ridiculous. Where on earth were all these useless thoughts coming from? His Mind Palace would bring him some comfort, a quick trip should clear things right up.

 

He went to the first place that normally relaxed him when he was this worked up... St. Barts. _Damnit, of course._ He navigated the halls until he found himself at his favorite microscope. Deep breath. Okay, this isn't so bad. Just looking at cultures... this will help.

 

_"Sherlock?"_

 

 _What?_ He looked up to find that Mind Palace Molly was standing in the door. Instead of wearing a frumpy jumper, she was wearing a familiar tight black dress, her hair falling in soft curls across her shoulders. She slowly walked over to him.

 

_"Why are you here Molly? I didn't make you."_

 

She smiled sweetly, _"Well it's your mind Sherlock, soooo."_

 

 _"Oh."_ He said as he suddenly realized.

 

_"Trying to figure something out?"_

 

Sherlock nodded.

 

 _"You usually are. Any idea why I'm wearing this dress?"_ Mind Palace Molly asked with her arms slightly raised.

 

 _"I rather like that dress."_ He answered sheepishly.

 

 _"I noticed, you always put me in it. Or sometimes just a lab coat."_ She said looking down at the floor.

 

 _"We agreed not talk about the lab coat incident."_ It turns out Sherlock can blush in his Mind Palace... not at all pleasant.

 

 _"It was a bit of fun though."_ She giggled.

 

 _"Molly."_ He warned. _"I deleted it."_ Looking down at his hands.

 

 _"Oh, you did not."_ He looked up at her, she rolled her eyes _. "I wouldn't remember it if you deleted it...I'm in you head, remember!"_ She said tapping Sherlock on his temple. _"Sherlock, why are you so upset about Real Molly having a blind date?"_

 

_"Yes, well I assume that's what I'm here to find out."_

 

Mind Palace Molly nodded her head. _"You want to know what I think?"_

 

Sherlock looked at Molly. The image that greeted him was one of Molly of Christmas past however, she really wasn't the same anymore. They had shared so much since that Christmas when she tried to impress him with big earrings and bows in her hair. So maybe they weren't the same anymore either.

 

Molly meant so much to him now. She was St. Barts and his work, which was always at the forefront of his mind. She a sweet smile and a morbid joke. She was warm touch when he was vulnerable, and she was a firm hand to his face when he was high. More than anything she had saved him, she had caught him when he fell... more than once. Molly was home.

 

 _"Are you afraid of what I'm going to say Sherlock?"_ Mind Palace Molly asked with a hand on his shoulder looking at him with the warmest brown eyes he'd ever seen... no the ones he always saw.

 

_"I made you, remember I already know what you're going to say."_

 

_"Yes, well be that as it may... Real Molly needs to hear it. You owe her that. Because as nice as a make-over is, we both know that what she really wants, is to hear the truth. If I know the truth, isn't only fair for Real Molly to know it too?"_

 

_"You're a figment of my imagination Molly, not so hard to admit things in here. I-I don't know how to do this."_

 

_"She'll help you. She always does, doesn't she?"_

 

He nodded again. _"Where do I start?"_ He asked

 

_"I'd say do some research, but that's you giving yourself advise, so..."_

 

_"Oh, right. Asking myself what to do when I don't know what to do, may not be the best course of action."_

 

Molly turned to leave the lab. _"Molly,"_ Sherlock called out.

 

_"Yes Sherlock."_

 

 _"Do we think she still loves me?"_ Sherlock asked having finally come to terms with the fact that he was indeed talking to himself.

 

She smiled, _"Of course we do Sherlock. Now go get our girl."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very quickly - 
> 
> I want to make sure everyone knows, I have no problem with the way Molly dresses. Frankly ugly jumpers and frumpy trousers are miles above my day to day wardrobe. Also, Sherlock is really simply trying to make her feel better about herself (or so he thinks, wink.) He's not trying to change her, not really. 
> 
> Thanks for reading -


	10. Preemptive Strike

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So no nasty scolding message this time. I'm sure that came off very harsh, and probably like I can't take criticism. I really don't mind it, but tone is very important. Also, there is a big difference between writing and reading. I write for very personal reasons (that have nothing to do with Sherlock whatsoever.) I enjoy what I write and it's not to be taken quite so seriously, let's just have some fun. I don't claim to be anywhere as good as the big writers on this site (you know who you are,) I'm a girl with a lop top, a few ideas and a salty mouth. 
> 
> Enjoy - I own nothing except the mistakes, they are mine and they are many.

Molly got up bright and early Sunday morning with a bit of nerves in her stomach that she hadn't felt in a very long time. She had all but given up on the prospect of a dating life after the gut wrenching end of her engagement to Tom. She really did have the worst taste in men... sleeping with his married editor. It was as if horrible men actively sought her out. Of course she knew that wasn't the case, it was all her. She was simply attracted to the kind of man that would ultimately break her heart, (or turn out to be a psychopathic criminal mastermind.) She was making tea when her phone chimed.

 

**I need your help with an experiment today-SH**

 

That was odd. She was well of the fact aware that Sherlock knew her schedule. He would call her in at anytime night or day if he had a case, but for an experiment?

 

**Sorry, I'm off today-Mx**

 

**I know, I meant for you to come to Baker Street-SH**

 

 _What?_ He had spent an inordinate amount of time at St. Barts since Moriarty's momentary return. Molly, however, hadn't been to his flat since the little party Mrs. Hudson put together to celebrate his success (except to collect body parts and look at his pants.)

 

**I'd love to help Sherlock, but I have plans. Sorry-Mx**

 

**Cancel your plans, it's important-SH**

 

**Please-SH**

 

Molly suddenly felt a little torn. Sherlock sounded a bit desperate (the man rarely said 'please.') She had always helped him when he needed her but she was really starting to look forward to Ginny's fix-up.

 

**I'll get back with you-Mx**

 

Molly drank her tea and thought for a moment then decided to call her friend.

 

"Molly, it's early this better be important. Like someone broke into my flat and stole all of my Dior, important." Ginny said, (Irene was really enjoying her alter ego.)

 

"Well as you know I don't own any Dior to be stolen but it's important, I think. Sherlock just sent me a text, he want me to come help him with an experiment. Can you contact you're friend for me?"

 

"Yeah, no." Ginny said.

 

"What?"

 

"You're not canceling to run off with Sherlock. Tell him you have plans." Ginny said through a yawn.

 

"I did, he ah, said to cancel them."

 

"Of course he did. Listen you want to get his perfect little bum off your mind then you're going to have to be an active participant. Don't cancel your date. I'll be at yours in about an hour, you need to be ready around noon."

 

"Why are we meeting so early?"

 

"It's Sunday, I thought you could do something casual. Maybe lunch and a walk, what ever people do on Sundays, I'm usually hungover. Do not give in Molly. You're not spending your time with mold spores today." Ginny scolded.

 

"Okay, fine." Molly said reluctantly, "I'll see you soon."

 

**Sorry Sherlock, it's too late to cancel my plans. Meeting a friend at noon. Maybe I can come by after-Mx**

 

Irene gave Molly about ten minutes to text Sherlock then called her back.

 

"You're still coming to do my make-up aren't, please don't cancel on me Ginny." Molly said with a bit of panic in her voice.

 

"Just making sure you were firm with Sherlock."

 

"Oh, yeah! I sent him a text. Said I had plans at noon. Then said maybe I could help him later." The first part of her statement was loud and clear, the latter a bit softer.

 

"Hmm, we'll work on that. At least you said no. See you soon."

 

_Good, thought I was going to have to taunt him a bit more. Irene thought, she even gave him the time for me. Operation Hooper-Holmes is moving along nicely. Good God, I sound like a character in a rom-com._

 

"Kate bring you're bottom in here, I need to slap something!" Irene yelled across her suite.

* * *

 

 

Sherlock was not at all happy that his plan had failed. Molly never told him no. This was unprecedented... The Woman was pure evil, he should never have involved her in Molly's life. Molly was everything that was good about his world and Irene Adler was currently tainting it.

 

He needed advice but of course John would selfishly pick this weekend to take Mary and the spawn to a B&B. He was currently not taking Sherlock's phone calls or returning texts. _Selfish ass! Who goes to a B &B anyway? What was wrong with him? How tacky!_ He could call Lestrade but his love life resembled the Hindenburg disaster. He suddenly thought about Mycroft and was thrown into a fit of uncharacteristic giggles.

 

No! He was going to have to handle this completely on his own. He still needed to figure out what to say to a possible romantic partner, so he followed his own advice and did his research.

 

Since his Mind Palace trip to St. Barts last night, he had suddenly never been so sure of anything in his entire life... Molly was his and he would prove it to her. He couldn't believe it took so long to realize his jumper hatred was actually physical attraction. He had come to understand that he didn't want Molly in different clothes, he just wanted to see what was underneath the ones she was wearing. In his defense this really wasn't his area... He spent all night in Molly's room, going through all the data he had collected. He was surprised to find that her room was in fact the largest one he had built. It had managed to grow so slowly that he didn't even consciously do it. It just sort of happened.

 

He sat down at his computer and painstakingly navigated the myriad of relationship advice sites. It was dull to the point of tedium, but needs must. After a couple of hours of research he felt somewhat equipped for his endeavor. He got dressed in his favorite suit with his tightest trousers and dress shirt (the sites did mentioned not to shy away from appealing to your conquest's baser instincts.) Then he was out the door to woo Molly Hooper!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO.... what do you think? Will it work?
> 
> Two more tomorrow!


	11. Three's Not Always Company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing - I have no beta so the mistakes are all mine.

To Sherlock's defense, he did knock several times before easily picking the lock and letting himself into Molly's flat. He was confidant she would still be home since she said her plans were set for noon. Once inside he heard music and female voices coming from the bedroom. So he headed down the hall. 

  
Here's what he heard:

 

_"Oh Ginny, this feels so weird." Molly said._

 

_"It's only because you've never done it before. Just relax."_

 

_"It just seems a little moist." Molly giggled._

 

_"I can't believe you've never tired it at least once, it's not like it's a new thing." Ginny snipped._

 

_"I'm a simple girl Ginny. Not normally this adventurous. But it is soft... and creamy."_

 

_"Do you like it?"_

 

_"Mmm, yes I think I do."_

 

Sherlock stood rooted in the hall right outside Molly's bedroom. _What the hell is going on in there? That temptress had lured his pure, sweet Molly into bed_...

 

(What Sherlock didn't hear, as his brilliant mind tried to assimilate the conversation that had just taken place, was Molly and Ginny discussing the difference between power and cream eye shadow. If he'd only stayed present just a bit longer, all of this could have been avoided...)

 

_"Okay, just one more thing and I'll have you feeling like the goddess that you are!" Irene said._

 

That was it, he had heard enough! He threw open the door with one hand covering his eyes, "Stop Irene! We had an agreement! I should have known better than to trust you! Get your hands off of her right now!" He screamed at the bed while a befuddled Molly and 'Ginny' sat at Molly's vanity.

 

"Nicely done Sherlock." Irene said as she put the lipstick tube back in her bag. "You truly are the _master of deduction_ , especially when it comes to women."

 

"What are you talking about?" He said turning his head to her voice, his hand still tightly clamped over his eyes. He had no interest in seeing what Irene had managed to entice Molly into doing.

 

"Sherlock, what are you doing here?" Molly asked.

 

"Keeping you from making a huge mistake, apparently. You can't trust this woman Molly, she's not what she seems."

 

"Did you talk to John before coming over here Sherlock?" Irene asked calmly.

 

"He's on holiday with the family. What does that matter? You clearly planned this all along. Seducing poor, naive Molly. I won't let you take advantage of her Irene."

 

"Sherlock, why do you keep calling her that and..." Turning to Ginny, "How do you know who John is?" Realization suddenly hitting her Molly stood up. "Are you kidding me? You two know each other?"

 

"Molly, please don't get upset. This isn't a bad thing. It's not what you think." Irene said

 

"Not what I think? What kind of agreement did you have with him?" She said pointing to Sherlock who was still standing with hand over his eyes. "Oh, for the love of God Sherlock, Gin- Irene was doing my make-up! We weren't doing... whatever it is you think we were doing. You look ridiculous, move you hand!"

 

Sherlock carefully removed his hand from his eyes and looked around the room. Molly's bed was made but instead of two women in the throes of passion, it was covered with boxes and bags. Irene was sitting (fully dressed) at Molly's vanity and Molly was only wearing a dressing gown, and under things, as he could tell that she was wearing stockings. Then he saw her face. Oh... her make-up was indeed different. She rarely wore make at work except for the few times she had tried to impress him with lipstick and he had made an unpleasant remark. He felt a twist in his stomach at those memories. He was suddenly drawn to Christmas and the dress. She had taken time with her face that night too. _Damnit... I screwed this up again._

 

"Will you two stop gaping... I want answers!" Molly yelled.

 

Sherlock still couldn't find any words, he enjoyed Molly all the time. But angry, worked up Molly (not to mention soft colours on her eye lids and cheeks and curled hair...) He was being affected in other, less um... gentlemanly ways.

 

Irene looked at him and realized he was having some kind of malfunction and decided to take the lead.  "Molly, listen, yes Sherlock and I know each other. He asked me to get to know you and help you feel a bit more confidant. That's all. Nothing sinister. Nothing bad, I swear. Then once I got to know you I found I quite liked you. So before you ask, our friendship is very much real. See... no harm done." Irene smiled sweetly.

 

Molly shook her head, "No, that's not how I see it. Who are you? If that's all it is than why wouldn't he just introduce us? Just say, 'hey Molly, I have this friend and she's great and you two will hit it off...' wait..." She said turning to Sherlock.

 

"You wanted her to change something about me." Molly said as the realization dawned on her. "This wasn't just about confidence. You wanted me to... to look different."

 

Sherlock was shaken out of his _Molly Shock_. "I-I not exactly..."

 

"What? Tired of working with an ugly pathologist? Wanted something better to look at while you waited for your specimens to mature?" She spit at him.

 

"No, that's not it at all!" He said. "I j-just...um..."

 

"I can't believe you're fucking stuttering!" Molly yelled, Irene laughed and drew the infuriated woman's attention. "Oh, you think you're off the hook? Who. Are. YOU?"

 

"My name's Irene Adler. I'm..."

 

An audible gasp cut her off. Molly's hand flew to her mouth her eyes suddenly filled with tears. "You... I did your autopsy. He identified your body, your _naked_ body but not your face." Molly wiped her face then folded her arms protectively over her chest. "I think you both need to leave. I-I can't look you either of you, just go!"

 

Irene tried to reach out to her friend but Molly recoiled. "Please leave... now."

 

Irene packed up her make-up and gathered up her things. Sherlock was still standing in the doorway like a statue. "Molly, I swear. You've got it all wrong. I never meant to hurt you, I..."

 

"But you always do, don't you?" She said from across the room.

 

"Come on, Sherlock. Don't make this worse." Irene said as she physically turned Sherlock around and pushed him out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I had a bit of fun with this one...  
> ...it's shameless, I know. I take comfort in the fact that the only people who will get the reference to the chapter title will be over a certain age and from the U.S. If you get it PLEASE say so in the comments... I'm dying to find out how many caught my drift! "We'll be waiting for you."


	12. Postmortem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing and have no beta so the mistakes are all mine.

Molly called Mike immediately and cashed in on a weeks worth of vacation days. She knew it was self-indulgent and most likely pathetic but she couldn't find it in herself to care. As she sat in her bathtub with her knees pulled up tight up to her chest she thought about how näive she had been.

 

Of course, 'Ginny' wasn't real, she thought as scrubbed her face nearly raw to remove any trace of that woman's handy work. _She just happened to wander by and start chatting me up in me favorite coffee shop._ Everything had been a lie, she wasn't a friend she was just trying to make Molly look better for Sherlock. Constantly making comments about Molly's clothes and her style. But why did he even care? She suddenly realized how truly awful she must look on a daily basis if Sherlock Holmes took that much noticed. That started a new flood of tears.

 

Once she got control of herself she started thinking about the fact that Irene Alder was suppose to be dead. Molly had done the autopsy. Sherlock had taken one look at her naked form and made the ID. They were clearly involved... was this some kind of game? _Always the fool Molly Hooper...always._

 

After her bath she found herself back in her bedroom surrounded by the evidence of her ignorance. All those clothes that she shouldn't have let herself be bullied into buying. She gathered them up and put them back into their appropriate boxes and bags. Everything except the outfit she'd had planned on wearing today, she had already cut the tags off the dress and had worn the underthings. She got dressed in nice baggy trousers and the biggest, ugliest jumper she could find, then she headed out of her flat. She couldn't get a refund on her dignity but maybe she could get some of her money back.

* * *

 

 

"I've often wondered what the absolute worst case scenario could be... you've just given the perfect example of it." Irene said as she and Sherlock sat at the lounge of her hotel.

 

"You can save your scathing comments Irene, they're not helpful."  Sherlock replied.

 

"Don't get high and mighty with me, I've heard all about your sharp tongue. You've done a very good job of pummeling that young woman's self confidence."

 

Sherlock recoiled at Irene astute observation but left it along. "I assume you canceled her date, she's in no state to receive gentleman callers right now."

 

" _You_ were the gentleman caller, you great idiot! I was getting her ready for a date with you! You were suppose to bust in and confess your poorly disguised feelings just before the 'mystery man' showed up." She took a sip of her tea, "You really need to work on your timing."

 

"Shit." Sherlock said looking off in the distance.

 

"Yes, yes you are. Now stop sulking, there's work to be done." Irene said.

 

"What?"

 

"What do you mean, what? You're planing on just giving up on the love of your life?" She asked.

 

"She hates me Irene... I was flying blind to begin with, but now... I'll never be able to earn back her trust." He couldn't even raise his head.

 

Irene was somewhat surprised that he didn't try to dispute her comment. _So he's finally come to terms with it, completely. At least that's dealt with._

 

"Sherlock, Molly does not hate you. She's properly pissed and with good reason. We deceived her. You've been fucking with her feelings for years, she's trusted you and helped you, expecting nothing in return." Irene huffed, "Do you know how out of my nature it is to be this... caring? It's making me a bit itchy... my clients will surly pay for all my recent benevolence. I'll just have to take it out on them." She said cracking her neck.

 

Sherlock couldn't help but allow one small chuckle escape before returning to his somber mood. "I'm not sure I see Molly forgiving my anytime soon Irene."

 

"Well no, not with out me. But with some help and careful planning you're well hidden heart need not stay broken." Sherlock looked up at Irene with surprise, "I'm doing this more for her than I am for you. Although it does warm my crop to see you so hopelessly in love."

 

"Who said anything about hopeless? Or love for that matter?" Sherlock said his defenses suddenly coming back up as if he just realized what they'd been talking about for the past few minutes.

 

"That won't do Sherlock. You have to drop the act for once in your life." Irene said looking him square in the eyes.

 

"What act?"

 

"You know what I'm talking about. You don't pull off obtuse as well as you think you do, so knock it off. You can't hold back. If you want her forgiveness and her heart, you have to lay yours open on the cutting block for all the world to see. Or for Molly to see at the very least. She can't doubt you for one minute, which means neither can you." She gave him a minute. "Do you love her Sherlock? Think about it, she doesn't deserve anymore heartache." Irene leaned back and gave the detective is time to work everything out.

 

Everything seemed so easy when he was alone with his thoughts. In his Mind Palace his didn't feel judged by anyone, other than himself (he had frankly found himself lacking, even if in many ways he selfishly didn't care.) But having it all laid on the table by The Woman made it very much real. It was decision time. If he told Molly how he felt he would have no choice but to have those feelings exposed to the world at large. Anything else would hurt Molly and he couldn't bare the thought of doing that ever again.

 

After just a few moments Sherlock looked up with determination in his eyes. "You said something about careful planing... what do we do?"

 

Irene smiled, that was all the answer she needed. "First I have to explain that you and I never slept together."

 

"What?" Sherlock exclaimed.

 

"Oh you really are completely clueless, which I find pleasantly ironic." She said rolling her eyes. "Her reaction when she realized who I was. She obviously thought by your ID of my body, that we were involved possibly still are involved. She must feel like we've been playing with her. The poor thing."

 

"Oh, that's why she started crying..." Sherlock said once again looking at some point in the distance.

 

"You could have given me some warning about that.  I didn't know she did my fake autopsy."

 

Running his hands through his hair he said, "It never once occurred to me."

 

"Right, you have so much to learn. And frankly, there's not much time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's just be glad he's got Irene in this one...


	13. Irene Begs... Twice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing and have no beta so all the mistakes are mine.

Monday morning was not a welcoming sight to Molly Hooper. Having come home with more than half of the purchases from her ill-fated shopping trip (as it turns out most of the shops had a fairly strict no return policy,) Molly consumed half a bottle of vodka in loo of dinner. When she finally got out of bed it was in search of her toilet and something for her head.

 

She hadn't heard from either Sherlock or Irene all evening, not that she had expected to. Although, if she was honest, she didn't know what to expect. She still didn't know what his motivation really was. At some point during her alcohol induced stupor she decided he was trying to remake her in Irene's image. However this morning that made no seance at all.

 

She puttered around her flat watching (but not really watching) telly until she realized she hadn't even looked at her phone since the night before. When she found it, it was dead. She plugged it up to let it charge then went to take a long shower. When she got out she looked at her phone. She had several missed calls from Irene and one _extremely_ long text as well.

 

**Molly, I know you don't want to hear from me right now but there are some things you need to be aware of. I'd rather be doing this in person but since you're not answering your phone this will have to do. Sherlock and I have never had sex. Not even close. There is a reason he could ID my body. It is a very long story but one that can be confirmed by Dr. Watson. So please believe me, I never slept with Sherlock. On to you, yes he did ask me to give you a make over but not for the reasons you think. Molly, never has Sherlock said anything disparaging about you to me, well except about your jumpers. But you can hardly fault him for that, I made my opinions pretty clear as well. Quite the opposite really, he thinks very highly of you. He honestly asked me to help you feel better about yourself. I know you have no reason to trust me, but ask yourself if you can trust him. Has Sherlock Holmes ever lied to you? Really lied? Sure he's a complete ass but his heart was in the right place. Neither of us meant to hurt you. Please agree to see me so I can make this right. If you knew me better you'd know this is completely outside my personality, but I find that I care deeply about you Molly Hooper. I want to see you happy. Please call me.-I**

 

Molly reread the text twice, she even managed not to cry on the second pass. She wanted to make sure she understood everything that was there. Now she had a decision to make. How in God's name could she ever trust either of these people again? Obviously Irene thought she was some clueless school girl. Molly had googled her last night in the early stages of her drunkenness. _A dominatrix? WOW! I just spent a week playing dress up with a sex worker she had thought_ , though at the time, in her state of inebriation she found it rather comical.

 

She took a steadying breath and made the call.

 

"Molly, you got my text." Irene said with relief in her voice.

 

"I did." Was all she could manage.

 

"Do you believe me?"

 

"I don't know. I really don't know what to believe."

 

"Will you see me?" Irene asked.

 

"..."

 

"Molly..."

 

"Okay, fine. Come in two hours. But just you, don't you dare try to sneak him over here." And with that she hung up.

 

Molly spent the next hour cleaning her flat, removing any and all evidence of her night of binge drinking. She brushed her hair. Cleaned her teeth (for the fourth time since her morning of toilet worship,) and put on jeans and a clean jumper. She made no attempt at make-up, she saw no point. She looked like she always did... plain, boring Molly Hooper.

 

When she heard the knock at her door she just yelled 'come in' from her sofa.

 

"Thank you for seeing me." Irene said. She was wearing a dark jeans and a soft green blouse, mocking Molly with her stunning beauty.

 

Molly looked up, "Still dressing as 'Ginny' I see." She said as she got up. "Tea?"

 

 _Ever polite..._ Irene thought, "I've been googled." She said as she followed Molly into the kitchen.

 

"Just returning the favor, oh that's right... that was a lie too. Hard to keep up." Molly said as she started the kettle.

 

Irene took a deep breath. "Molly as you can imagine I don't have many friends..."

 

"Shocking."

 

"I deserve you're anger, I do. But you have to ease up a bit so we can move past this." Irene pleaded.

 

Molly whipped around, "Why? Why do you care?"

 

"I explained, I care about you. I know it's a very unorthodox way for a friendship to start out but I don't care how we started... I'm glad for it. You are a rare person Molly. And I won't give up on you without a fight." Irene was shocked to feel a tear rolling down her cheek. _What the hell? Last week I tied up a member of Parliament and beat him until he bled. Now I can't stand the thought of this nerdy, pathologist never forgiving me? Fucking Sherlock!_

 

It didn't go unnoticed by Molly but she had just watched this woman pretend to be someone she was not for a week, what was she suppose to believe? Although she did have to fight with her instinct to just wrap her in a tight hug and say everything was fine... no she needed more answers.

 

"Okay, let's say I believe you? What now? Will you explain why Sherlock did it? Why he really did it? And what about you? Did he pay you? Are make-overs of ugly doctors just a side thing for you? Is business that bad?"

 

Irene took a deep breath, "I owed Sherlock a favor... He saved my life." She looked at the near broken woman in front of her and waited for a response.

 

"Well, that does seem like something he'd do... It's kinda his thing." Molly picked at the fraying hem of her jumper. "What about the rest?" Molly asked then turned to finish the tea.

 

"Molly I didn't lie in that text, he did it for exactly the reason I said. He does hate your jumpers. I mean really hates them. He has actual plans for their end. The only thing he wanted me to do was help you pick out better fitting clothes and perk up your self-confidence. Sherlock and I haven't always had a great relationship. I mean he's sort of a dick and I'm a manipulative, power-hungry bitch. But he was completely sincere when he asked for my help. I can read people and as much as he likes to think I can't read him, he's nothing special... he didn't lie to me. He not lying Molly. He feels like shit."

 

"Worried about lab access, I suppose." Handing Irene her tea.

 

"Not this time Molly. You're very much wrong."

 

Molly was off in her own world for a few moments.

 

"Molly, need I remind you that you haven't been idle the past few weeks. What about your little trip into Sherlock's pants drawer?" Irene asked breaking Molly's reverie.

 

"Oh, I sort of forgot about all that." Molly said looking a bit guilty.

 

"Thought you might have. He wants to see you."

 

"Did you tell him... what I did?" Molly asked looking a bit more than guilty.

 

"And break the girl code? Are you kidding me? Also I couldn't take that much smugness. Although, his ego did take quite a beating with his incorrect deduction yesterday."

 

Molly and Irene broke into a much needed fit of laughter.

 

"Why did he assume that you and I were, um... well..." Molly asked as her laughter died down.

 

"Because I'm gay Molly."

 

"Oh."

 

"Yes. Now that's out of the way... are you going to see him or not. He's driving me crazy. Oh and John too, now that he's back."

 

Molly thought for a moment. "He really just wanted me to feel better about myself?" Irene nodded her head. "That explains all the comments lately. Okay Irene, I'll see him. Let me get my things."

 

"No, he has a plan. You're off for the week, right?"

 

"Yes, how did you..." Molly started.

 

"Please, why even try? Tomorrow night. I have a request, and I know I have no right to ask it though please indulge me?" Irene asked with a twinkle in her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, three chapters today because tomorrow is a big one... very long... like I can't believe it how long that chapter is. Also prepare yourself for all kinds of fun!!


	14. A Pretty Dress and Missing Pants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to take a minute and thank you all for the support. I try to reply to each comment but if I didn't please know that I do appreciate them. This last chapter is my gift for all the silliness and hijinks you all put up with. I never intended it to be so bloody long... but I did put them both through a lot. I felt like they deserved some fun. Enjoy. 
> 
> I own nothing except the mistakes, those are all mine!!

Sherlock Holmes didn't experience fear. Okay, not entirely true. He had been afraid when he thought he was being chased by an enormous hound on the low lying hills of Dartmoor. And, although he had never admitted it to a living soul, he was terrified the night he jumped off the roof of St. Bartholomews hospital. However neither of those moments compared to the overwhelming trepidation he was experiencing waiting for Molly Hooper to enter his flat.

 

He had everything ready, he had been working all day. He had talked to John at great length about what he wanted to do and say, only to have his words slightly tweaked here and there. John did add _'don't insult her what ever you do, don't insult her Sherlock.'_ Irene actually approved of his plans and didn't make one adjustment. Just told him not to fuck up. Molly should be here any moment.

 

* * *

 

Molly Hooper had never felt so over dress in her inter life. Going to 221B Baker Street in a strappy (sexy) little red and white dress, seemed like the most ridiculous idea in the world, but Irene insisted. The dominatrix had spent an hour applying make-up and curling Molly's hair. She asked Irene why on earth she needed to go this much trouble to talk to Sherlock, the answer was a little troubling. _'I don't like leaving a job unfinished. Besides, wouldn't you like to see the look on his face when he sees you in this dress?'_

 

Unfortunately for Molly this brought her back to a very unpleasant evening filled with fairy lights and red wrapping paper and a unkind deduction by the love of her life. She couldn't help but prepare herself for another barrage of insults from the detective. Needless to say she was ready to call Irene and have her explain to Sherlock that this was 100% her idea and Molly was an innocent victim in the overdressed debacle.

 

Her pulse pounded in her ears as she ascended the stairs. Frankly this was going to be hard enough, she really wished she hadn't been talked into the dress. At least she was wearing a coat, maybe she could manage to keep it on during their conversation. The front door was unlocked, just as Irene said it would be. The door at the top of the stairs was closed, when she raised her hand to knock it opened.

 

"Molly." Sherlock said breathlessly.

 

"Hello Sherlock." She said too nervous herself to notice his reaction.

 

"Um, come in please."

 

As she walked into the flat, Sherlock now behind her closing the door. She looked around. The flat was well, first of all it was clean, completely clean. The day she had looked at his pants it had been covered in papers, books, files and other assorted detritus. Tonight however it was covered in dozens of candles and flowers. She blinked trying to assimilate what she was seeing. _This...was...um..._

 

"Sherlock?" She started with her back still to the man. _Irene was right... he is really sorry_ , she thought.

 

"Let me take your coat Molly." He said from right behind her.

 

"O-okay." _Oh, no_.

 

He took her coat and she heard a gasp then turned around. He was standing holding her coat in a white knuckled grip, staring at her. His eyes raked up her body until they met hers once again. "My God Molly, you look amazing."

 

Molly eyes grew wide as she realized that the look on Sherlock's face was completely unrecognizable. He looked... _well that can't be right Sherlock doesn't do that... what was that look then?_

 

"Th-thank you Sherlock." She wasn't happy to be stuttering again, but Sherlock's odd behavior had upped her anxiety about as high as it could go. "Um, the dress was Irene's idea. She insisted."

 

He continued to stare, "I'm indebted to her." He said just above a whisper. He cleared his throat. "Would you like to sit?" He motioned to the sofa.

 

"Okay." Molly said cautiously as she sat down. Sherlock hung up her coat and remained standing.

 

"Can I offer you a glass of wine?"

 

 _Wine?_ She thought. She was starting to feel like she had slipped through to some kind of alternate reality where Sherlock Holmes was the perfect host. "Um, sure."

 

"Red or white?" He asked nervously wringing his hands.

 

"White."

 

Sherlock returned shortly with two glassed of white wine and sat next to her on the sofa. He took a large drink and then deep breath before setting the glass down on the coffee table.

 

"Molly, I know that Irene explained some things to you but of course I owe you an apology. I never meant to hurt you by inserting her into your life. I didn't want to change you, not really. I quite like you the way you are..." He paused and took a breath. "I think I just wanted to see more of you and make you to feel better about yourself." As he said the _'more of you'_ part he almost had a questioning look on his face, as if he wasn't sure if it was the right thing to say. But he continued. "And as she may have mentioned that I have a bit of a problem with your jumpers." He said keeping his eyes fixed on some point at the wall behind her.

 

"Yes, she said as much. Evidently they are pretty horrible." She moved her head so it was in his eye shot, he just looked down to his lap. "Sherlock, I accept your apology. I just wish you had talked to me instead of asking a stranger to take me shopping. She said nothing ever happened between the two of you..."

 

"Oh, no, nothing at all. Long story there but John was present for it and shortly after there was a gun fight with a small group of Americans. But no sex, we've never been involved. I can explain everything if you like."

 

"No, we're not... I mean you don't owe me an explanation. I just felt like you were making fun of me Sherlock."  

 

Sherlock closed his eyes and drew another breath. "I know, it makes sense. I've been such an ass, while you were always so good and kind. Please believe me Molly. I didn't mean for this to happen. I'm so sorry." He looked at another point on the wall.

 

"I believe you, it's okay. We'll-we'll be fine. Sherlock, why won't you look at me?" She asked trying once again to make eye contact.

 

He huffed and looked at his lap again, taking his time to answer. "I can't concentrate on what I'm saying when you look like this Molly. I carefully planed out what I was going to say to you but I seemed to have forgotten most of it the moment I removed your coat."

 

Molly gaped, everything was starting to come together but that didn't make it any more believable. _Sherlock Holmes is...No!  Me? This make-over business was because he... Oh..._ Molly shifted on the sofa and once again met Sherlock's eyes. _That's what that look is._ She thought.

 

Sherlock smiled shyly. He almost looked like a little boy. She could tell he was frightened, but of what... rejection? Of course, after the events of Sunday she could understand some fear, but no. As much as she wanted to believe she had moved on... he was still Sherlock and he still had her heart. And right now he needed her help.

 

"You said you wanted to tell me things, would it be easier if you closed your eyes? Lessen the sensory input?" She asked then put her glass on the table as well, giving Sherlock her full attention.

 

And there it was, just as Mind Palace Molly had predicted... his Molly making everything easier for him. "Yes, that might help. Thank you Molly." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Suddenly all his carefully selected words came rushing back to him and he knew exactly what he needed to say.

 

"Molly, I've been a fool. A fool for not realizing what you meant to me years ago. You are my solace, my comfort. You were the voice of reason long before John Watson came into my life. When I came to you and asked for your help to save my life and keep safe those closest to me, you're unflinching loyalty and bravery would have broken my heart if I had only known at the time that I possessed one. But now I see that I do. I very much know now that I have a heart Molly Hooper and I was wondering if you'd be so kind to keep watch over it for me. I don't have much experience you see."

 

Molly now understood why Irene insisted on using waterproof mascara, because from the second Sherlock started speaking she had been a river of tears. An especially loud sniffle made Sherlock open his eyes.

 

"Molly, I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

 

She was sure her face must be frightening at the very least. "I'm fine Sherlock. No, not fine... I'm overwhelmed. What you just said, it-it was just so... beautiful."

 

"Oh, yes. John warned me about this, 'happy tears?'"

 

She laughed as he handed her his handkerchief. "Yes of course you great git. I'm very happy." She said as she carefully cleaned herself up.

 

He was staring again. "Sherlock you're looking at me now."

 

"Yes, apparently I am."

 

"Is there anything else you wanted to say?" She asked looking up at him through her eyelashes.

 

"No, more of a question." She nodded her head. "May I kiss you Molly Hooper?"

 

"I quite literally thought you'd never ask." She said.

 

Sherlock slowly reached up and touched Molly's still tear dampened cheeks relishing the nearness of their faces. "You are so beautiful Molly. I know I said I don't appreciate beauty, but I will never let you doubt yours ever again." He placed his lips gently over hers, the feeling was almost too much. He pushed past his fears of disappointing her as she slid one hand up his chest slowly to hold the back of his neck. As soon as her fingers made contact with his flesh Sherlock gasped. He broke the kiss and opened his eyes.

 

"Too much." She asked. _Oh, no-no-no, please don't let it be too much._

 

"Oh God no... Not enough. Not nearly enough." Is all he managed as he sat back on the sofa and pulled Molly against his chest and into another kiss. This time he slid his tongue across her lips asking for entrance which she didn't hesitate in granting. As the kiss heated up into a frenzied dance, Molly without breaking contact, straddled Sherlock's legs. A growl came from somewhere deep inside him, he didn't even know existed as he realized what the new position meant for their bodies and where they could touch each other. His hands were gripping Molly's lower back as she held his head in one hand and almost painfully drug her nail down his chest with the other.

 

 _I just jumped onto Sherlock's lap... yep that just happened,_ she thought.

 

The kiss broke for the inconvenient need to breath and they looked into each others eyes once again. Sherlock had been certain that at this moment he'd feel unsure, overwhelmed or even frightened. But looking at Molly, eyes blown out with lust, lips pink and puffy, cheeks flushed with desire... he could only feel was the rightness of it all. Even though it had been over ten years since his last sexual experience and that was hazed over by drugs and deletion, Sherlock knew Molly would take his hand and lead him exactly where he needed to go.

 

"Are we going to..." Molly started.

 

"I'd very much like to..." Sherlock finished.

 

"Me too." She said before leaning down and pressing her lips into his once again. This time Sherlock decided to get to work removing that gorgeous dress before he lost his mind and ripped the thing off of her. He felt around and found the zip carefully pulling it down. Once all the way down she sat back and started to pull it over her head.

 

"Please be careful... I quite like that dress." He said as she laid it down on the sofa next to them. But he had already started to lose focus as her efforts had relieved her body to him. She was wearing a strapless white bra and matching kickers and of course, since she had been under the tutelage of The Woman herself... Molly Hooper was wearing stockings and garters. Sherlock had to steel himself not to throw her to the floor and take her like some kind of cave man. This was the woman he loved... not someone to be objectified. However, objectivity be damned as he was looking at her in her sexy underthings straddling his lap his brain was having a very hard time making sense of it all. "Molly, you are unlike anything I ever imagined."

 

Molly smiled and blushed all over again under his scrutiny. _I can't believe this is happening.._. she thought. _But if he's going to keep looking at me like that... I can't be expected to behave like a lady._

 

Sherlock placed his hands on her thighs and drug them upwards brushing past her knickers up her stomach over her ribs until he reached the under sides of her breast. His hands were gripping her torso just under her bra as he looked at her with a slight questioning eye. Molly reached behind and popped the clasp but held it on until Sherlock could reach up and move it out of the way. Both hands slid up taking her breasts simultaneously as Molly's head rolled back and her hips involuntarily bucked forward. Sherlock grinned and leaned in to take her right breast in his mouth, greedily nipping and sucking the dusky pink nipple to a peak. Molly's hands dug into Sherlock's hair pulling at the follicles as she encouraged his movements. He move to the left breast and repeated his actions and Molly ground her hips down on his prominent erection.

 

He frankly would have been content to do this all day (and may have to, at some point, make a study of how much stimulation Molly's breasts could endure,) were it not for the fact that there so many other thing they'd yet to accomplish. As soon as he released her breast and leaned back Molly started unbuttoning his dress shirt. Sherlock moved his hands to cup her bottom, well cup... more like caress, kneed, squeeze.

 

"Why in God's name do you wear such big clothes? Why would you hide a body like this?" He said breathlessly as she worked her way down his chest. "It's perfect. Molly, you're perfect."

 

She heard him but she couldn't answer, she was too busy licking and sucking his neck and chest to worry about fashion at the moment. He sounded like was going to say something else until Molly wrapped her perfect little mouth around his nipple and he was suddenly bucking up into her hot center like a beast. She licked her way down his stomach as she slid off his lap and onto the floor between his knees. She popped his button and pulled down the zip and as she pulled down his trousers she found what she'd been looking for all that time... nothing... not a thing. The man wasn't wearing any pants at all. _Well I'll be damned._.. She thought. _That explains the non-existent lines... but why all the pants? Sod it, I'll ask him later_. She pulled his trousers off along with his socks and tossed them out of the way. She looked up at the man, he appeared to be ready to explode.

 

"Molly this might not be a good idea... it's been years. I..."

 

Gently taking him in her tiny hand Molly said, "Trust me Sherlock. What ever happens is okay, we've got all night." And with that she placed a sweet kiss on the tip of his cock. His entire body shuddered and she took him into her mouth and swept her tongue over the head and worked the rest with her ever capable hand. She tucked her other hand between his ass and the sofa and felt the perfection of it, she squeezed and dug her nails in as she worked. Sherlock threw his head back and his hips forward, as his hands made short work of Molly's perfectly curled hair. Molly worked up and down taking Sherlock to the very edge and pulling him back again.

 

"Fuck, Molly... I can't take much more!" Sherlock grunted out as he buck into her mouth.

 

She pulled off but continued to pump him with hand and moved the other to cup his bollocks. "It's okay, Sherlock. Let go, I want this."

 

She wrapped her lips around his prick once again, this time she opened her throat and took him as far as she could. As she did she could feel it start as she was pulling him back out just a bit and she heard him screaming her name as she drank him down. She swallowed every bit and looked up at Sherlock still in his dress shirt though it was unbuttoned, his breathing returning to normal, however slowly.

 

"Molly. Hooper." He said taking a breath between each name, "That was amazing."

 

Sherlock's eyes were closed but when he finally opened them she was walking around the room blowing out the candles offering him a lovely view. "Join me." She said just before she diapered down the hall.

 

Sherlock took just a moment to gather himself before jumping up shedding his shirt and doing as he was told. He found her in the bedroom already tangled up in his sheets, she must have gotten cold. He was suddenly reminded of a Berinin sculpture he saw while he was in Rome tearing down Moriarty's web. She laid there one hand over her breast the other thrown lazily resting on her stomach... waiting. She looked like Death of the Blessed Ludovica Albertoni. Sherlock smiled at how she'd find that both sexy and morbid (and of course a little funny.)

 

"What are you laughing at?" She asked.

 

"Nothing, I'll tell you later. You get cold?" She nodded her head. "Let me fix that."

 

Sherlock took the sheet and ripped it back taking in the bounty before him. He licked his lips and carefully laid down on top of her kissing her neck as soon as he got close enough. "Molly," He said as he slipped his hand between her legs. "I do believe I owe you something." He took the tender skin of her neck between his teeth, Molly cried out. "Oh, you make the most delicious noises." He was stroking her through her soaked knickers, at a torturous pace.

 

"Please Sherlock, Please."

 

He was off of her throat and kneeling at her waist in a matter of seconds, peeling her white lace knickers off tossing them on the floor. Crawling between Molly's stocking clad legs he made a mental note to send Irene some kind of thank you gift. Possibly a boat or a small is Island. When he had made it to his destination, he couldn't help but take a calming breath. _I hope I remember how this works,_ he thought. But there was no need. Being completely surrounded by Molly his instincts kicked in, as he parted her and lavished her with his tongue and lips. She keened and cried when he found her pearl and sucked it into his mouth giving it teasing licks as he did. When he pressed first one then two fingers into her opening he couldn't help but look up to see the look of unbridled passion on the normally sweet innocent face of his pathologist. It drove him mad with want. As her walls started closing around his fingers and a string of expletives sprang from her lips he was almost afraid he would come again with out any physical stimulation at all. He extracted himself from her lower half, licking his fingers clean watching Molly come back from wherever she had just been, tiny hands suddenly took his face and brought him for a searing kiss. Needless to say he was shocked. One thing he did manage to retain from his few experiences with the fairer sex was kissing after that particular act wasn't something they liked to do. Although, having tasted Molly Hooper, he could understand her desire to try it out herself.

 

"Oh, good God, that was fan-fucking-tastic!" She said.

 

"Good, I was afraid I might be a bit rusty." He said in an even deeper voice than normal, sending new electric pulses down Molly's spine.

 

"If that's you rusty, I'm in trouble." She laughed.

 

Sherlock maneuvered himself over top of he again. "Oh, you're ready again. Sherlock, you just came like ten minutes ago!"

 

"Yes, and I've been ready since I came in here to find you looking other worldly and wrapped in my bed sheets. As much as I enjoyed the dress, I like this look even better." He lowered his head and kissed her again. "Molly, my speech, you know I was trying to tell you that... I was... I love you Molly Hooper."

 

She smiled, cradling the back of his head, playing with his soft curls. "Yes, that's what I took it to mean. But it's nice to hear. And just to confirm, I love you too Sherlock Holmes."

 

They kissed once again as he reached down and entered her slowly. Sherlock pressed his forehead into Molly's chest to steady himself. _Nothing should feel this good,_ he thought as he started moving. He wanted to go slow but his body wouldn't obey his mind and picked up speed seemingly of it's own volition when Molly started thrusting her hips upwards to meet his and crying out for more. His lips sought contact with anything they could find as Molly's nails clawed welts down his back and arms, the slight pain only driving him closer to his completion. He rose up slightly to watch her as begged for release changing the angle and driving harder, Molly's walls once again convulsed and crashed around him. This time taking him with her on her trip into that place where only pleasure exists.

 

Heavy breathing was the only sound in 221B Baker Street for several minutes following their love making as Molly and Sherlock tried to come back to reality. Sherlock rolled off and quickly pulled the sheet back over their sweat covered bodies. Molly instantly tucked herself into his chest.

 

"Well, that's one way to say 'I'm sorry.'" Molly said as her breath returned.

 

"Yes well, actions speaking louder than words and all that." Sherlock retorted.

 

Sleep was just about to claim Molly when Sherlock spoke up again. "Oh, did you get the answers you were looking for by the way?"

 

Molly sat up and looked at him with a questioning brow.

 

"About my pants..." He said with a sideways grin.

 

Molly's eye shot open, "How... what...I..."

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Mrs. Hudson told me about your girl chat. Then John told me about your interest in woman's magazines, the ones you don't read by the way. Finally, and most importantly, you left the bottom drawer open and eight of an inch... very sloppy Molly. You don't have a future at MI5, in case you were interested." He said as he traced circles on her back.

 

"I can't believe you knew, how embarrassing." She buried her face in his chest.

 

Sherlock chuckled. "As if I'm any better? Having a Dominatrix make you buy tighter clothes because I wanted to murder your jumpers."

 

Molly laughed along with him, "Wait, if you don't wear pants, why on earth do you have three different kinds?"

 

"Relish the mystery Molly. A man's got to have some secrets." He said taking her face in his hands and kissing her breathless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... that just happened!  
> Molly's Dress:  
> http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RmGVy3ja9M4/TB8qTTXQUGI/AAAAAAAABVw/mek2t-geWpI/s1600/valentine-day-dress-ideas.jpg
> 
> Bernini Sculpture:  
> http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/5/54/Blessed_Ludovica_Albertoni_by_Gian_Lorenzo_Bernini.jpg
> 
> Thank you all once again! Hope you enjoyed it my lovelies.

**Author's Note:**

> Bring it on friends... I'm ready! Give it to me! Good, bad or ugly!


End file.
